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by supremely sinful (I_Am_Not_A_Robot)



Category: Original Work
Genre: "human" haha, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Captivity, Crying, Dreams and Nightmares, Escape, Gen, Horror, Human Experimentation, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Illnesses, Inhumane treatment of people, Loss of Control, Loss of Identity, Loss of Trust, Mindfuck, Monsters, Nausea, POV Second Person, Psychological Horror, Sketchy facilities and scientists, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Trauma, Violence, Whump, but NOT a reader insert, i just wrote it that way because... i have no clue why i did that, that awful feeling of impending doom, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 10:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21318958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Not_A_Robot/pseuds/supremely%20sinful
Summary: listen y'all i had a heckin' awful nightmare and i can't just let a good idea like this bounce around in my head until it fades away with time!just read this is if you don't mind the 2nd POV, enjoy whump, are interested in violent horror, and have time to spare.my unconscious brain forced me to endure this, so here's me retelling it in a way that will force you to live through it too! :)
Kudos: 4





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**Author's Note:**

> fjdkdskjs i can't believe i dreamt this up  
like what on almighty EARTH is going on with unconscious-me??

You aren’t sure who did it, what caused it, or how the curse came to reside in your being, but now as the hour wanes and the needle is plunged into the soft flesh of your inner left elbow, you begin to regret ever leaving the house.

There’s only so much time left before something goes wrong. You shouldn’t have climbed that wall, and you shouldn’t have peaked inside the tiny window, nor stayed long enough to see one of the trapped people there turn wicked and wild. (That could be you, if the conditions are right. Your skin grows cold to think about it.) Mistake after mistake, it all leads to this? You’re dizzy, you can barely stand up; someone in a white coat sets you on the ground. You need to escape. You need it more than anything.

But your head is fuzzy, your limbs heavy. What sedative did they push into your sluggish veins?

“It’s all for the better.”

“...For the better.”

“You’re _dangerous_.”

“I’m dangerous.”

“Stay here. We’ll come back to sedate you again.” Her eyes are filled with disdain and fear.

Bloodcurdling, vengeful images fill your head, and you almost cry out loud, so shocked by their appearance. Nausea twists at your gut, and fear, downright terror at what could- no, _will_ happen… the horrible inevitable.

Dreamless sleep is all you could ask for right now, and it comes.

Earlier today, you took a handful of seeds someone offered. You didn’t know the man, nor what he was doing here. But you took them, and then ate them, because that’s what he was doing. They were edible, and they tasted fine, little star-shaped bundles of green and brown. What an interesting seed, right? You’d never seen any like them.

But they carried a disease, a curse, a supernatural and unethical corruption of the own body you resided in, worse than any mortal virus. Being undead would have been a blessing, because you wouldn’t have to be held accountable for your violent deeds. Being turned into a werewolf would’ve been better, because the turnings would at least be consistent and expected. Vampirism or being a ghost would have been great too, because they’re also consistent and unchanging, and even better, you will _always_ have your wits about you.

But this? The sheer sickness that curls in your gut as you can only hope to guess when **it** will hit? When your first bout of violence will arrive, unexpected, and your bones will shift and you won’t stop hurting until the episode is over?

It could come any moment.

It could last any amount of time.

It could come and never stop.

But sadly, there was no chance that it won't arrive, sooner or later, for worse or for even worse. No good option. No mercy, no safety from the inevitable.

As long as you and the other inhabitants of this facility are sedated, none of you will shift. And you can’t be free, because you pose a threat to the community. It’s your first hour here, and you’ve already seen a fight break out, across a glass panel deep inside this lonely white place. The blood… you can never be too sure whether that twinge in your gut is a reaction of disgust or a sign that the big change is about to happen.

So you turn your head, pretending your mouth isn’t watering, and shut your eyes, waiting once more for that dreamless sleep to take you back into its comforting embrace. Dreamless is death. Death is escape. Escape is better than what’s coming.

Escape is better than the fact that your stomach aches, and your teeth are getting sharper, and a dizzy spell is taking over, or the world is getting redder, and— no, no. No. You’re not going to let it happen, not today, not now, not ever.

You must’ve been imagining things, because everyone knows that these episodes can’t be averted or stifled. So that falling feeling in your gut can’t have been it. It can’t have been. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re still you, you’re still in control…

_For now._


End file.
